SPRING 1986
EDITORIAL BOARD
Carolyn Jo Bowker - Editor-in-Chief
Theresa Lane
Jonathan Murray
Wren Rappel
David B. Smith
Deb Smith
Steve Tetreault
Donald Mortland -- Faculty Advisor
Published by the students of
Unity College, Unity, Maine
CONTENTS
INSTINCT -- Matt Lawler 1
"Friends" -- Anony-muse 3
DOUBLE DATING WITH YOUR PAL -- Steve Tetreault 4
"Christmas Brainstorming" -- Anony-muse 6
BEING FIRST -- Matthew S. Lawler 7
MYLIKA -- Jane Finnemore 7
"Passing Moments" -- Allison MacDonald 9
"Distance of Love" -- Carolyn Jo Bowker 14
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON -- David B. Smith 14
THE WALL -- Theresa Lane 16
"The Freedom of Nature" -- Carrie Van Eerde 17
ADVENTURE -- David B. Smith 17
"Goodby" -- Theresa Lane 20
BURNT OFFERING -- J.R.M. 20
"Parting" -- Matthew S. Lawler 21
"My Love" -- J. R.M. 22
"Midas" -- Anony-muse 23
"Death: The Fear of the Unknown" -- Kathy Record 24
"On the Other Hill" - Walter G ryzb 24
"Essay on Poetry" -- Jane Finnemore 25
1 llustrations by Cindy Madura
INSTINCT
by Matt Lawler
I was standing on a wooded ridge, facing the southern horizon
with the fierce north winds beating harshly on my back . It was
winter and the forest was blanketed with two feet of fresh _powder
that had fallen during the previous day and night. My hiking com­panion
for the day was an energetic, stocky German short-haired
pointer named Axial.
As I stood on the ridge, enjoying the view and the solitude,
I heard the shril I cry of Axial giving chase to game. When I real­ized
that he was in the valley behind me, Axial let loose another
cry, but this time it was accompanied by a loud grunt of pain.
The week before, in the same area, Axial had charged a white­tail
buck, but was thrown by it and knocked out. I thought to
myself, "Damn-it, not again! He's gonna get hurt!" So I listened.
Axial's excited cry rang out a few more times, each one being
followed by that loud grunt of pain. I could tell from the
changing direction of the sound that he was moving fast, and
that I had better start giving chase myself, so as not to lose him.
My adrenaline was pumping full blast, for the loud grunts had
terrified me, as I bounded down the north face of the ridge. I
leaped, twisted, and turned through the brush and the snow like
a madman, until I crossed Axial's tracks in the white maze.
There before me, in Axial's path, were the bloodstained tracks
of a medium-sized white-tailed deer. I became outraged, and in
a mad fury I raced along this freshly laden trail with the intent
of confronting the maker of these tracks.
I was breathless when I came to the top of the ravine, but
shocked when I looked down to the bottom. There was a yearl­ing
lying in a foot-deep pool of water that was created by a
1
stream, groaning fiercely in pain and helpless to defend itself
against the predator. Axial was screaming and pouncing with
pleasure, as this was what his ancestors were bred for, back in
Germany -- killing big game.
To Axial this was an instinctive survival urge being fulfilled,
but to me it was a disgrace. This was not a case of survival, where
a kill can be justified by sincere need; this was a case of a well­nourished,
healthy domestic canine running down a mal­nourished,
weather-beaten deer in two feet of snow during mid­winter.
I was flaming mad as I bounced down the ravine to the stream.
When I got there, I ripped Axial away from the yearling and
dragged him away to a tree, where I tied him. I cursed Axial and
cracked him across the face with a backhand, for I knew that
since he was a hunting dog, it was his job to run an animal down,
but my job to make the kill.
I slowly walked back to the deer, and we had a long stare at
each other, trying to figure each other out, I guess. We stood
face to face in that pool of freezing water, and I realized how
helpless we both were. He was suffering with physical pain and
had to be killed, and I was suffering with mental anguish and
had to kill him. I spoke softly in an attempt to calm us both.
I slowly exposed my knife while the yearling slowly exposed his
throat. The knife sliced through his throat, down to the depths
of my emotions. I wept.
2
I used to be happy,
When we were friends.
I used to smile,
When we were friends.
You told me,
Friends?
"We will always be friends."
Now you ignore me.
Are we sti 11 friends?
Now you avoid me.
Are we sti 11 friends?
. I don't even know.
Are we still friends?
I used to love you,
When we were friends .
Won't you tell me,
Are we still friends?
3
DOUBLE DATING WITH YOUR PAL
by Steve Tetreau It
Have you ever been on one of those double dates with your
best pal? Unfortunately, I have on one too many occasions. If
you read very carefully, hopefully you will learn a few things
from the harrowin' but true tale I'm about to relate to you.
It all started one day as I was mindin' my own business. My
good buddy Clyde knew these two sisters and he set us up for
a double date with them before he asked me if I wanted to go.
Well, I agreed to go only if Clyde drove his mom's car. I figured
if I was goin' on a blind date, I might as well have both hands
free (just in case I had to defend myself).
We picked up the girls, Freda and Bertha, (yeah, I got Bertha)
around 6 p.m. They were kind of good lookin' actually. We
piled into the car and the girls sat as far away from Clyde and
me as possible. I started thinkin' that it was goin' to be one of
those dates. I remember speaking correct English the whole night
because Bertha was goin' to be an English major and I wanted
to impress her.
We went to the movies. Clyde and Freda sat in the back
because they didn't want to watch the movie (you know what
I mean). I had the same idea, but Bertha led me toward the mid­dle
of the theatre. Clyde has since told me that Freda pulled his
hand in close to her body and started to caress it (his hand, of
course). As time went on, Clyde says, he thought it was time for
a kiss and he went for it.
Meanwhile, me and Bertha were sittin' as far apart as possi­ble.
No fault of mine. I was tryin' to be a gentleman, but at the
same time I was goin' for the big score. Clyde tells me that after
his first kiss with Freda he just about passed out. He said her
breath reminded him of a cross between skunk cabbage and
onions.
4
The movie ended and we piled into Clyde's mom's car. I nimbly
sat in the middle of the back seat, forcin' Bertha to sit next to
me. Then it was on to a night of cruisin ' through three states.
We started the official cruise listenin' to stupid Air Supply
music that the girls wanted to hear. To break the boredom, I told
Clyde that his back seat didn't have any springs in the middle.
Bertha patted the seat right next to her and told me to sit there.
If she would have told me to sit on the other side of the car,
I would have felt like I was an inch tall. So, I casually moved
over and made the big move and suavely placed my arm around
her. I was on my way.
Well, I'm sure you all know that Clyde and me were thinkin'
of other things besides cruisin' . So, we took the girls to a park in'
spot we knew about out near where the river floods every April.
Clyde pulled into the clearin' with his mom's very white T-Bird .
I warned him about the mud but he said it was no problem .
So, Clyde proceeded around a pine tree very slowly so we
could have a good view of the river while we parked. All of a
sudden we weren't goin' anywhere. Clyde sunk that T-Bird up
to its axles in mud. I got out to push while Clyde d rove but it
didn't work. Clyde came out to help while Freda drove. That
didn't work either. So, I got in while Clyde pushed. Since Clyde's
mom's car was an automatic, I threw her into LOW 1 and
gunned the engine. Clyde said, 11Whoa! Whoa! " but I thought
he was sayin' "Go! Go!" Unknown to me, Clyde was directly
behind the drive wheel where mud was thrown upon his nice
white corduroys. Freda gave him a Kleenex to wipe the mud off.
Lot of good that did.
Well, once all the excitement died down, we piled back into
the car. It was awfully dark and we couldn't see a thing. All of
a sudden, I heard Clyde say to Freda, " Where's your mouth?"
because he got her nose instead of her lips when he kissed her.
5
The two of them continued. And, me, with the pressure on,
went for it. Bertha wanted to talk instead. So, I said, "Nice
weather we're having?" Clyde came up for air and asked us if
we were goin' to talk all night and then returned to Freda. The
next thing I knew we were leaving. Clyde tells me it's because
Freda got mad at him for tryin ' to go where no man had gone
before - like Captain Kirk.
We proceeded to drop the girls off at their house. It was there
we noticed that mud was caked about a foot thick on Clyde's
mom's car's fenderwal Is. Clyde nimbly scraped it off with his
trusty ice scraper. It didn't work so good so we spent $5 at the
car wash at midnight to clean it because Clyde's mom would kill
us if she knew we'd used her car for parkin' purposes.
I survived that double date with minimal losses and no gains.
Eight dollars for the movies, $2.50 for the car wash, and a free
weather forecast while-you-park. No so much as a kiss goodnight.
Let that be a lesson for al I you would-be double-daters.
CHRISTMAS BRAINSTORMING
proctor and gambels
quail quaffing whine.
Louder than sales pitches
of baseballs, at christmass thyme.
Parsley Parson, golfer par
excellance, performing persuasion
pour ewe, who sheepishly
heard to deafend cathedrals,
reeling from quail quaffing wine.
Reali ng reality from history's story
of ewe in a past. Parson's
bright right left us beleaving
leaves fall up right
into today, to tabernacles
towering towards wardend refuge
of quail quaffing wine,
at Christmass time. Anony-muse
6
BEING FIRST
by Matthew S. Lawler
I shinnied out onto the branch like a bear cub hugging his first
trunk. My safety line was the only thing preventing me from
falling like a rock to the unforgiving ground seventy feet below.
I carefully coiled my rappel line, dropped it into the air, and
watched it outstretch until it got snagged on a stout branch
below. Since I was the one who set up the rappel, I had to slide
down it first even though it was wrapped around a branch I ike
a snake coi I ing its prey.
I clipped into the I ine and dropped into space until · I was
hanging by my constricting harness. I slowly slid down the rope
until I came to the snag. Three quick jerks set the rope free and
its weight sent me penduluming through the branches. Once i
stopped swinging, I slid all of the way to the ground in one bound.
The rappel was now clear for the others who were patiently
yet nervously waiting up top.
MYLIKA
by Jane Finnemore
It was a dreary spring day, warm, but overcast. Myl ika had
spread out a I ight picnic breakfast for Neeka and herself in the
once inhabited circular clearing just outside the village. The lit­tle
boy Neeka was scampering about in pursuit of the tiny brown
puppy that was his only playmate.
Mylika and her son were the only people from the village that
were awake. The others would sleep the morning away, for they
had stayed up until nearly daylight last night. There had been
a celebration, a wedding celebration for Mylika's youngest sister.
Neither Mylika nor Neeka had attended; it was forbidden. The
7
old people at the village felt that seeing a deformed child at the
celebration wou Id put a hex on the bride-to-be.
Two years before Myl ika had been married, but there had been
no celebration: Mylika ·had married an outsider, thereby dis­obeying
the rules of the village, and bringing bad fortune upon
herself. His name was Thom ass and he had wandered into the
circular clearing and collapsed when Mylika found him. At first
she had been a I ittle afraid of him because of the way he
looked, his eyes were so strange. She kept him hidden for several
weeks until all his wounds healed and he was able to walk by
himself.
At first the people of the village were horrified; they thought
that Mylika had brought an evil monster among them. After a
few days they felt only revulsion at the strange man with the
misshapen body and pale eyes. When Mylika decided that she
was going to marry him, they were disgusted and refused to sanc­tion
the wedding. After the wedding night, Mylika and Thomass
moved away from the village, to the small circular clearing where
they built a small house. Thomass had wanted a larger home, ·
but the old women at the village had told Mylika that there would
be no children because of Thomass's defects.
Three months I ater it was quite evident that Myl ika was preg­nant.
Thomass was very excited, but Mylika was afraid . The peo­ple
of the village were already saying that it was going to be
a monster child and probably wouldn't live. When she was seven
months along, Thomass went into the village for supplies. When
he hadn't returned by late afternoon, she went in search of him.
Halfway down the trail, she found his body, still lying where they
had beaten him. She lay beside him all night, crying for herself
and the baby she stil I carried.
When the sun came up the next morning, she began digging
his grave. By noon she had him buried, had replaced the sod over
the grave, and had erected a stone marker. During the next few
8
weeks, Mylika's mother came often, bringing food and trying to
persuade her to return home. Finally Myl ika consented to go
back. Later that night as she looked through her old bedroom
window, she saw flames coming from the little clearing. They
had burned the little home that Thomass had built for her,
trying to erase all her memories of him.
Her labor started during the night and for a long time she just
lay there crying and praying that the child would live. The odds
were against it, for it wasn't due for many months yet. Many hours
later, Mylika delivered a boy child that looked exactly like its
father and was very much alive. Mylika's family tried to persuade
her to do away with it, but she refused to I is ten to them.
But now, a year later, she began to wonder if she had done
the right thing. The child was still looked upon with disgust by
the people of the village. Mylika watched him throwing sticks
at the puppy and wondered if he would ever survive with his
defects. It seemed unlikely. All she could hope to do was to pro­tect
him while he was young, and then try to train him to sur­vive.
But she doubted that he would live to be old. How could
he survive with only two legs and arms? How could he ever hide
in the forest with his white skin and pale blue eyes?
PASSING MOMENTS
My mind remembers it as if it were several years ago.
My heart remembers the pain of tears and woe.
My pain remembers it as if it were just yesterday;
Sometimes it seems as if the pain will never go away.
There are other times when you come to mind.
I visualize you and me as we used to be.
I ponder upon this for awhile and always find
That all that remains is sorrow and misery!
So, you see, you never really did go away;
At least, your memory is here to stay! Allison MacDonald
9
DISTANCE OF LOVE
by Carolyn Jo Bowker
The distance of my love
is as if fhe flight of a dove has gone away.
His f I ight is long and tiresome
and will end hopefully someday.
What will happen if I never see that dove?
What will happen if I never find my love?
The overwhelming fear is hard to keep away.
The walls that separate us began in May
And continue to hover all over;
My heart continually pounds
At the mere sight of him.
The sound of his voice echoes in my mind like a hymn.
If only I knew he was around.
The smile he shines at me is one of compassion
But I ittle does he know of al I my passion.
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON
by David B. Smith
John James Audubon is known to most as a painter of birds.
He was, however, a great deal more than just an artist. Audubon
is an example of an early 19th century American pioneer.
Audubon, the son of a West Indies merchant, was born in 1785.
The details concerning his birth are vague; it is presumed that
he was born out of wedlock on the island of Haiti. While very
young, Audubon was brought to France, where he received his
formal education. At 17, Audubon studied drawing in Paris,
although only for a few months.
Audubon arrived in the United States in 1803, when he was
18 years of age. He lived on a Pennsylvania farm named Mill
14
Grove, on the banks of the Perkioming River near Philadelphia.
Here he was recognized as a rather urbane character, attending
costume balls and fencing contests, and often seen prancing
about the forest and field in the finest of clothing. It was while
living at Mill Grove that Audubon met Lucy Bakewell, whom
he later married. Lucy tutored John in English, while John
reciprocated by giving her French and drawing lessons. It was
this ability to teach others his interests that, for a time, became
Audubon's primary means of employment.
A few years later, John and Lucy set out for the French col­ony
of Louisville, Kentucky. They were to live on the frontier
for twenty years . Audubon tried his hand at running a general
store, equipped with shotguns, axes, and other provisions for the
back-country pio.neers. This enterprise proved only mildly suc­cessful,
and Audubon had to resort to selling his paintings to
make ends meet. Audubon often painted portraits to raise money
to support himself, his wife, and their two sons born in Kentucky.
Audubon traveled a great deal, buying supplies and selling his
goods. During his journeys, he met other naturalists, including
Daniel Boone, whom he hunted with on several occasions.
Audubon traveled with Osage and Shawnee Indians, I iving off
the land as they did. Throughout all of his travels, he kept a
daily journal, faithfully noting the habits of every new bird he
came across. He recorded natural events as wel I as human per­sonal
drama, always making note of incidents as they occurred.
Around 1820, Audubon set his mind to completing a compila­tion
of drawings entitled Birds of America. Everything else
he had attempted to make a living of had failed . After being im­prisoned
for debt, he resorted to teaching dancing, fencing, and
drawing. He continued to paint portraits to earn pocket money.
Nothing seemed to slow him in his ambition to draw never-before­seen
wildlife. He spent six years in Louisiana collecting draw­ings
for his book. Finally, at age 41, he went to England with 400
15
drawings ready to . be engraved. Birds of America became
Audubon's tour de force.
Audubon traveled from the Florida keys to New Brunswick,
Canada, and from the New Jersey shore to the Yellowstone River.
He dined with President Andrew Jackson in the White House,
and he ate with Indians in uncharted wilderness. John Jam es
Audubon was a pioneer because he lived out a rustic life on the
frontier, but also because he was one of the first in America to
observe, take note of, and draw North American birds in their
native surroundings.
THE WALL
by Theresa Lane
Lost from his platoon, Mike came upon a wall in the middle
of the woods. Mike could hear his friends calling from the other
side, "Mike ... Mike ... Mike!" Mike called out, "I'm coming,"
and put down his gun and helmet, then started up the wal I.
The wall was seven feet high with barbed wire at the top. Mike
climbed over the wire and cut his hand on it, then jumped to
the other side, into mud that came up to his waist.
It was dark and very quiet except for the voices of his friends
calling him. He had waded his way through a mile of mud and
then he slipped and found himself in mud to his neck. It was
only another ten feet before he came to another wall. He
stopped and thought that he had been walking in a circle, but
that was impossible because the mud was deeper here.
Then he heard the voices again cal ling out to him from the
other side of the wall. So he climbed over it, but as he got to
the top, he tripped over the barbed wire and fel I. The next thing
he knew, his friend Bob was shaking him and saying, "It's time
to go."
16
Mike awoke and asked where they had been . They said they
had been here al I the time and that he was sleeping. "But we
were separated and you were calling me," Mike sa_id. They replied
that he must have had a bad dream. They started to walk away,
and he turned around to pick up his helmet and gun when he
noticed the cuts on his hands and the thick black mud on his
uniform .
THE FREEDOM OF NATURE
The sea gull soars high above the crescent waves,
Airborne, knowing only the freedom
Which exists within himself.
Acceleration increases his confidence.
Gliding, wind upon him,
He seizes the moment
Following the soothing rays of the sun .
Clouds nestle themselves in the heavens,
Darkening, inviting him into the moonlight.
Carrie Van Eerde
ADVENTURE
by David B. Smith
What is adventure? To some, adventure means a physical and
often spiritual challenge where one can develop a high level of
self-confidence in an outdoor setting. To others, however, adven­ture
means leaving the comforts and security of home, setting
out on a dangerous "mission", facing incredible odds, battling
the elements, and fighting off lions, tigers, and man-eating deer.
Is the possibility of working towards an abstract and nebulous
goal, such as developing a sound .self concept, worth the risk
of personal injury, or the loss of life or limb? As the number of
17
people participating in adventurous activities increases, more
and more novices, and all the more privately owned companies,
are asking themselves this question.
The kind of risky adventure activities that are in question are
numerous and in great variety. Common examples include moun­taineering,
hand gliding, downhill skiing, and white-water rafting,
canoeing, or kayaking. These- activities take place in the outdoors,
and usually the participant will compete with some element of
natural phenomena. This in layman's terms might mean trying
to overcome rapids on a river, climbing up a steep rock cliff,
or perhaps plummeting down a mountainside on skis. While the
danger is always present in these leisure time pursuits, adverse
weather conditions can compound the risk. These thrilling
challenge~ always have an uncertain finish. Will the kayak be
dashed upon the rocks? This uncertainty of the outcome is what
drives individuals to participate in these exciting sports. The stress
and anxiety attract some who might otherwise face an unevent­ful
life.
A common denominator of potential danger is always present
-- yet millions of Americans engage in this "rugged recreation"
each year. What is to be gained from such activities, aside from
sore muscles, or becoming wet and cold?
I contend that the benefits great1y outweigh the risks in such
activities. After the challenge has been met, one is aware of one's
self. He or she can be proud of the determination to meet such
a challenge, and will gain physical and emotion satisfaction
knowing that "they can do it." Adventure situations can be an
emotional outlet for those with pent up frustrations. They can
also be a social gathering, however informal, where people with
the same interests can come together and enjoy comaraderie.
In my personal experiences, I've developed strong personal bonds
with others whom I've shared intense peak experiences. And cer­tainly
one can feel better al?out himself when physically fit from
recreation in the outdoors.
18
The opportunities abound for recreation these days. There are
more instructors, creating competition amongst themselves to
be the best. Common interest groups and club are springing up
across the nation, where more and more people are initiated in­to
the world of outdoor adventure. Updated techical equipment
with added safety features is continuously being developed and
marketed, with consumers (or, shal I we say, connoisseurs) of high
adventure paraphernalia purchasing these items.
What happens when you've got the latest gear, taken every
precaution possible, yet you are unable to reach your goal as
planned due to bad weather? A person can wonder with great
respect at the power of nature, and at the same time be a part
of it. "The knowledge of one's mortality and limitations can lead
to a sense of solidarity with the world, of oneness with al I
nature." 1
Take the risk -- go for it -- it can be yours.
1 John C. Miles, "The Value of High Adventure Activities, Leisure
Today, April, 1978, p. 2.
19
GOOD BY
Day by day we I ive and learn.
With each day we see the good and the bad;
We see the love, we see the pain.
We see the people come and go;
We learn to face all that comes our way.
We know the sorrow of the day when we shall
stand and face the pain on our own,
For when this day may come, we hope
that . we can be strong to face
it all.
So good-by, my friend, for the time we
knew wi 11 never be forgotten.
BURNT OFFERING
J.R.M.
Theresa Lane
The ember of the old man's cigarette glowed with a momen­tary
fiery brilliance as he took a weak drag. The sterile room in
which he sat was illuminated only by the sun's persistent effort
to pass through the closed shade, which glowed with a dull light.
Brighter shafts, which seemed to be trying to cleanse the room
of its black, death-I ike gloom, protruded from around the sides
of the shade where it didn't meet flush with the wal I. As he ex­haled,
the smoke was invisible until it hit a shaft of pure sunlight.
The smoke would then explode and fill the space of light with
its swirling soft blue brilliance. His old disturbed mind was
fascinated by the smoke. It took him away from where he was
until his very being became vaporous. He become enthralled and
overcome by the blue haze. His absorption in the smoke was
finally broken by a racking cancerous cough from deep in his
black lungs, a pointless final attempt to expel the impurities that
had for so long built up in his aged body. The cigarette fell from
his limp fingers and landed noiselessly on the tile floor. The sun's
fading light dimmed in his lifeless eyes and once again he became
vaporous.
20
PARTING
Thomas, my spirit brother,
When I look at you I see myself.
You are a free entity
Searching only for truth
By listening to Mother Earth
And others who respect her
As intensely as you do. Thomas, my spirit brother,
Now you must flow on
It is time for doing-doing.
To follow your path in life
And live all of the intensities
Of the universe.
The notdoing-notdoing has been fruitful.
You have brought the spark of I if e
.Back to my spirit.
You have given me inner peace
And I am grateful, spirit brother.
Take care in your travels
Your spirit is strong
and touch many along the way,
And be wary of the onm ipresent
And frustrating rut
Of doing-notdoing
Which attempts to engulf us all.
And your senses are keen -­These
aid you in being a warrior
Rarely found
In today's unappreciative world.
Thomas, spirit brother,
Al I good thoughts
And all good medicine.
I will greet you at the rendezvous.
21
Your spirit brother,
Matthew
Matthew S. Lawler
MY LOVE
My love, she sadly stares out at the sea.
The breezes softly whisper through her hair.
Does she know how much her love means to me?
Doesn't she know how much I really care?
I carefully approach her from behind,
Not sure if I should break her tearful trance.
She is alone with herself in her mind.
It seems a wrong time to talk of romance. ,
She sees me and comes to my open arms.
I kiss her gently and vanquish her fears.
She knows that I will never wish her harm,
And that I hate to have her heart shed tears.
Her mind, now as peaceful as a white dove,
Knows that she is the only one I love.
22
J.R.M.
MIDAS
If time stopped, would it still be cold?
Would wind still scowl at trees standing bold
on barren rumps of rearing earth
standing the test of longevity's worth?
If sequential progress could rearrange
at a whim its stolid pace,
would a_ge seem but a word
in a nouvelle titled "interlace"?
Time's petty pace indeed
slowly slides by force eternal,
while on consistencies reed plays
a lullaby, all too familiar.
It is the most abundant things we ignore.
The air, the land, the ocean shore.
_ There is no need to .reverse
the multitudes of gulls crying on the pier.
Time, and species do abound,
and the King Midas world does go on,
and then, quietly, without a sound,
the world, empty, rotates around.
23
Anony-muse
DEATH: THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN
lie down to go to sleep.
My mind talks to me.
It arouses the curiosity of Death.
What will happen to me?
Where will I go?
I rol I over on my side,
Pu 11 my knees to my chest,
Wrap my arms around my knees,
Clench my hands as if I
Were holding myself together.
My stomach hurts.
Butterflies crawl around inside.
I begin to cry.
I am scared.
I tell my mind to shut up.
My mind tells me I have to die.
I will not listen.
I pu 11 the covers over my head;
I cry until I fade off into
A deep sleep.
ON THE OTHER HILL
Sitting,
silent and cold.
Light slowly replaces darkness.
Mice rustle in dead dry leaves.
A single note,
from a small bird.
Wind livened pine needles.
Anxiety helps relieve the pain.
Patience wearing thin.
Tint of orange on the horizon.
A shotgun blast,
not from your gun,
echoes.
24
Kathy Record
Walter G ryzb
ESSAY ON POETRY
need a change, a chance to get away,
to be alone, near no one,
a chance to sort my feel in gs,
to sort my confusions, to calm my fears.
I need to talk to myself, not to others,
to think about my own problems,
not about the world's troubles .
I need green grass, trees and quiet waters.
need to regain my self
to take for awhile, no more giving.
I need to control my I ife, my needs,
instead of always being controlled.
I want to be alone,
I need to think about these feelings;
· I'm going somewhere peaceful -­But
I'll take you; you are my peace.
25
Jane Finnemore
The members of the editorial board take this opportunity to
express their appreciation and admiration of the gentle but ef­fective
leadership of their editor-in-chief, Carolyn Jo Bowker.

Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.

SPRING 1986
EDITORIAL BOARD
Carolyn Jo Bowker - Editor-in-Chief
Theresa Lane
Jonathan Murray
Wren Rappel
David B. Smith
Deb Smith
Steve Tetreault
Donald Mortland -- Faculty Advisor
Published by the students of
Unity College, Unity, Maine
CONTENTS
INSTINCT -- Matt Lawler 1
"Friends" -- Anony-muse 3
DOUBLE DATING WITH YOUR PAL -- Steve Tetreault 4
"Christmas Brainstorming" -- Anony-muse 6
BEING FIRST -- Matthew S. Lawler 7
MYLIKA -- Jane Finnemore 7
"Passing Moments" -- Allison MacDonald 9
"Distance of Love" -- Carolyn Jo Bowker 14
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON -- David B. Smith 14
THE WALL -- Theresa Lane 16
"The Freedom of Nature" -- Carrie Van Eerde 17
ADVENTURE -- David B. Smith 17
"Goodby" -- Theresa Lane 20
BURNT OFFERING -- J.R.M. 20
"Parting" -- Matthew S. Lawler 21
"My Love" -- J. R.M. 22
"Midas" -- Anony-muse 23
"Death: The Fear of the Unknown" -- Kathy Record 24
"On the Other Hill" - Walter G ryzb 24
"Essay on Poetry" -- Jane Finnemore 25
1 llustrations by Cindy Madura
INSTINCT
by Matt Lawler
I was standing on a wooded ridge, facing the southern horizon
with the fierce north winds beating harshly on my back . It was
winter and the forest was blanketed with two feet of fresh _powder
that had fallen during the previous day and night. My hiking com­panion
for the day was an energetic, stocky German short-haired
pointer named Axial.
As I stood on the ridge, enjoying the view and the solitude,
I heard the shril I cry of Axial giving chase to game. When I real­ized
that he was in the valley behind me, Axial let loose another
cry, but this time it was accompanied by a loud grunt of pain.
The week before, in the same area, Axial had charged a white­tail
buck, but was thrown by it and knocked out. I thought to
myself, "Damn-it, not again! He's gonna get hurt!" So I listened.
Axial's excited cry rang out a few more times, each one being
followed by that loud grunt of pain. I could tell from the
changing direction of the sound that he was moving fast, and
that I had better start giving chase myself, so as not to lose him.
My adrenaline was pumping full blast, for the loud grunts had
terrified me, as I bounded down the north face of the ridge. I
leaped, twisted, and turned through the brush and the snow like
a madman, until I crossed Axial's tracks in the white maze.
There before me, in Axial's path, were the bloodstained tracks
of a medium-sized white-tailed deer. I became outraged, and in
a mad fury I raced along this freshly laden trail with the intent
of confronting the maker of these tracks.
I was breathless when I came to the top of the ravine, but
shocked when I looked down to the bottom. There was a yearl­ing
lying in a foot-deep pool of water that was created by a
1
stream, groaning fiercely in pain and helpless to defend itself
against the predator. Axial was screaming and pouncing with
pleasure, as this was what his ancestors were bred for, back in
Germany -- killing big game.
To Axial this was an instinctive survival urge being fulfilled,
but to me it was a disgrace. This was not a case of survival, where
a kill can be justified by sincere need; this was a case of a well­nourished,
healthy domestic canine running down a mal­nourished,
weather-beaten deer in two feet of snow during mid­winter.
I was flaming mad as I bounced down the ravine to the stream.
When I got there, I ripped Axial away from the yearling and
dragged him away to a tree, where I tied him. I cursed Axial and
cracked him across the face with a backhand, for I knew that
since he was a hunting dog, it was his job to run an animal down,
but my job to make the kill.
I slowly walked back to the deer, and we had a long stare at
each other, trying to figure each other out, I guess. We stood
face to face in that pool of freezing water, and I realized how
helpless we both were. He was suffering with physical pain and
had to be killed, and I was suffering with mental anguish and
had to kill him. I spoke softly in an attempt to calm us both.
I slowly exposed my knife while the yearling slowly exposed his
throat. The knife sliced through his throat, down to the depths
of my emotions. I wept.
2
I used to be happy,
When we were friends.
I used to smile,
When we were friends.
You told me,
Friends?
"We will always be friends."
Now you ignore me.
Are we sti 11 friends?
Now you avoid me.
Are we sti 11 friends?
. I don't even know.
Are we still friends?
I used to love you,
When we were friends .
Won't you tell me,
Are we still friends?
3
DOUBLE DATING WITH YOUR PAL
by Steve Tetreau It
Have you ever been on one of those double dates with your
best pal? Unfortunately, I have on one too many occasions. If
you read very carefully, hopefully you will learn a few things
from the harrowin' but true tale I'm about to relate to you.
It all started one day as I was mindin' my own business. My
good buddy Clyde knew these two sisters and he set us up for
a double date with them before he asked me if I wanted to go.
Well, I agreed to go only if Clyde drove his mom's car. I figured
if I was goin' on a blind date, I might as well have both hands
free (just in case I had to defend myself).
We picked up the girls, Freda and Bertha, (yeah, I got Bertha)
around 6 p.m. They were kind of good lookin' actually. We
piled into the car and the girls sat as far away from Clyde and
me as possible. I started thinkin' that it was goin' to be one of
those dates. I remember speaking correct English the whole night
because Bertha was goin' to be an English major and I wanted
to impress her.
We went to the movies. Clyde and Freda sat in the back
because they didn't want to watch the movie (you know what
I mean). I had the same idea, but Bertha led me toward the mid­dle
of the theatre. Clyde has since told me that Freda pulled his
hand in close to her body and started to caress it (his hand, of
course). As time went on, Clyde says, he thought it was time for
a kiss and he went for it.
Meanwhile, me and Bertha were sittin' as far apart as possi­ble.
No fault of mine. I was tryin' to be a gentleman, but at the
same time I was goin' for the big score. Clyde tells me that after
his first kiss with Freda he just about passed out. He said her
breath reminded him of a cross between skunk cabbage and
onions.
4
The movie ended and we piled into Clyde's mom's car. I nimbly
sat in the middle of the back seat, forcin' Bertha to sit next to
me. Then it was on to a night of cruisin ' through three states.
We started the official cruise listenin' to stupid Air Supply
music that the girls wanted to hear. To break the boredom, I told
Clyde that his back seat didn't have any springs in the middle.
Bertha patted the seat right next to her and told me to sit there.
If she would have told me to sit on the other side of the car,
I would have felt like I was an inch tall. So, I casually moved
over and made the big move and suavely placed my arm around
her. I was on my way.
Well, I'm sure you all know that Clyde and me were thinkin'
of other things besides cruisin' . So, we took the girls to a park in'
spot we knew about out near where the river floods every April.
Clyde pulled into the clearin' with his mom's very white T-Bird .
I warned him about the mud but he said it was no problem .
So, Clyde proceeded around a pine tree very slowly so we
could have a good view of the river while we parked. All of a
sudden we weren't goin' anywhere. Clyde sunk that T-Bird up
to its axles in mud. I got out to push while Clyde d rove but it
didn't work. Clyde came out to help while Freda drove. That
didn't work either. So, I got in while Clyde pushed. Since Clyde's
mom's car was an automatic, I threw her into LOW 1 and
gunned the engine. Clyde said, 11Whoa! Whoa! " but I thought
he was sayin' "Go! Go!" Unknown to me, Clyde was directly
behind the drive wheel where mud was thrown upon his nice
white corduroys. Freda gave him a Kleenex to wipe the mud off.
Lot of good that did.
Well, once all the excitement died down, we piled back into
the car. It was awfully dark and we couldn't see a thing. All of
a sudden, I heard Clyde say to Freda, " Where's your mouth?"
because he got her nose instead of her lips when he kissed her.
5
The two of them continued. And, me, with the pressure on,
went for it. Bertha wanted to talk instead. So, I said, "Nice
weather we're having?" Clyde came up for air and asked us if
we were goin' to talk all night and then returned to Freda. The
next thing I knew we were leaving. Clyde tells me it's because
Freda got mad at him for tryin ' to go where no man had gone
before - like Captain Kirk.
We proceeded to drop the girls off at their house. It was there
we noticed that mud was caked about a foot thick on Clyde's
mom's car's fenderwal Is. Clyde nimbly scraped it off with his
trusty ice scraper. It didn't work so good so we spent $5 at the
car wash at midnight to clean it because Clyde's mom would kill
us if she knew we'd used her car for parkin' purposes.
I survived that double date with minimal losses and no gains.
Eight dollars for the movies, $2.50 for the car wash, and a free
weather forecast while-you-park. No so much as a kiss goodnight.
Let that be a lesson for al I you would-be double-daters.
CHRISTMAS BRAINSTORMING
proctor and gambels
quail quaffing whine.
Louder than sales pitches
of baseballs, at christmass thyme.
Parsley Parson, golfer par
excellance, performing persuasion
pour ewe, who sheepishly
heard to deafend cathedrals,
reeling from quail quaffing wine.
Reali ng reality from history's story
of ewe in a past. Parson's
bright right left us beleaving
leaves fall up right
into today, to tabernacles
towering towards wardend refuge
of quail quaffing wine,
at Christmass time. Anony-muse
6
BEING FIRST
by Matthew S. Lawler
I shinnied out onto the branch like a bear cub hugging his first
trunk. My safety line was the only thing preventing me from
falling like a rock to the unforgiving ground seventy feet below.
I carefully coiled my rappel line, dropped it into the air, and
watched it outstretch until it got snagged on a stout branch
below. Since I was the one who set up the rappel, I had to slide
down it first even though it was wrapped around a branch I ike
a snake coi I ing its prey.
I clipped into the I ine and dropped into space until · I was
hanging by my constricting harness. I slowly slid down the rope
until I came to the snag. Three quick jerks set the rope free and
its weight sent me penduluming through the branches. Once i
stopped swinging, I slid all of the way to the ground in one bound.
The rappel was now clear for the others who were patiently
yet nervously waiting up top.
MYLIKA
by Jane Finnemore
It was a dreary spring day, warm, but overcast. Myl ika had
spread out a I ight picnic breakfast for Neeka and herself in the
once inhabited circular clearing just outside the village. The lit­tle
boy Neeka was scampering about in pursuit of the tiny brown
puppy that was his only playmate.
Mylika and her son were the only people from the village that
were awake. The others would sleep the morning away, for they
had stayed up until nearly daylight last night. There had been
a celebration, a wedding celebration for Mylika's youngest sister.
Neither Mylika nor Neeka had attended; it was forbidden. The
7
old people at the village felt that seeing a deformed child at the
celebration wou Id put a hex on the bride-to-be.
Two years before Myl ika had been married, but there had been
no celebration: Mylika ·had married an outsider, thereby dis­obeying
the rules of the village, and bringing bad fortune upon
herself. His name was Thom ass and he had wandered into the
circular clearing and collapsed when Mylika found him. At first
she had been a I ittle afraid of him because of the way he
looked, his eyes were so strange. She kept him hidden for several
weeks until all his wounds healed and he was able to walk by
himself.
At first the people of the village were horrified; they thought
that Mylika had brought an evil monster among them. After a
few days they felt only revulsion at the strange man with the
misshapen body and pale eyes. When Mylika decided that she
was going to marry him, they were disgusted and refused to sanc­tion
the wedding. After the wedding night, Mylika and Thomass
moved away from the village, to the small circular clearing where
they built a small house. Thomass had wanted a larger home, ·
but the old women at the village had told Mylika that there would
be no children because of Thomass's defects.
Three months I ater it was quite evident that Myl ika was preg­nant.
Thomass was very excited, but Mylika was afraid . The peo­ple
of the village were already saying that it was going to be
a monster child and probably wouldn't live. When she was seven
months along, Thomass went into the village for supplies. When
he hadn't returned by late afternoon, she went in search of him.
Halfway down the trail, she found his body, still lying where they
had beaten him. She lay beside him all night, crying for herself
and the baby she stil I carried.
When the sun came up the next morning, she began digging
his grave. By noon she had him buried, had replaced the sod over
the grave, and had erected a stone marker. During the next few
8
weeks, Mylika's mother came often, bringing food and trying to
persuade her to return home. Finally Myl ika consented to go
back. Later that night as she looked through her old bedroom
window, she saw flames coming from the little clearing. They
had burned the little home that Thomass had built for her,
trying to erase all her memories of him.
Her labor started during the night and for a long time she just
lay there crying and praying that the child would live. The odds
were against it, for it wasn't due for many months yet. Many hours
later, Mylika delivered a boy child that looked exactly like its
father and was very much alive. Mylika's family tried to persuade
her to do away with it, but she refused to I is ten to them.
But now, a year later, she began to wonder if she had done
the right thing. The child was still looked upon with disgust by
the people of the village. Mylika watched him throwing sticks
at the puppy and wondered if he would ever survive with his
defects. It seemed unlikely. All she could hope to do was to pro­tect
him while he was young, and then try to train him to sur­vive.
But she doubted that he would live to be old. How could
he survive with only two legs and arms? How could he ever hide
in the forest with his white skin and pale blue eyes?
PASSING MOMENTS
My mind remembers it as if it were several years ago.
My heart remembers the pain of tears and woe.
My pain remembers it as if it were just yesterday;
Sometimes it seems as if the pain will never go away.
There are other times when you come to mind.
I visualize you and me as we used to be.
I ponder upon this for awhile and always find
That all that remains is sorrow and misery!
So, you see, you never really did go away;
At least, your memory is here to stay! Allison MacDonald
9
DISTANCE OF LOVE
by Carolyn Jo Bowker
The distance of my love
is as if fhe flight of a dove has gone away.
His f I ight is long and tiresome
and will end hopefully someday.
What will happen if I never see that dove?
What will happen if I never find my love?
The overwhelming fear is hard to keep away.
The walls that separate us began in May
And continue to hover all over;
My heart continually pounds
At the mere sight of him.
The sound of his voice echoes in my mind like a hymn.
If only I knew he was around.
The smile he shines at me is one of compassion
But I ittle does he know of al I my passion.
JOHN JAMES AUDUBON
by David B. Smith
John James Audubon is known to most as a painter of birds.
He was, however, a great deal more than just an artist. Audubon
is an example of an early 19th century American pioneer.
Audubon, the son of a West Indies merchant, was born in 1785.
The details concerning his birth are vague; it is presumed that
he was born out of wedlock on the island of Haiti. While very
young, Audubon was brought to France, where he received his
formal education. At 17, Audubon studied drawing in Paris,
although only for a few months.
Audubon arrived in the United States in 1803, when he was
18 years of age. He lived on a Pennsylvania farm named Mill
14
Grove, on the banks of the Perkioming River near Philadelphia.
Here he was recognized as a rather urbane character, attending
costume balls and fencing contests, and often seen prancing
about the forest and field in the finest of clothing. It was while
living at Mill Grove that Audubon met Lucy Bakewell, whom
he later married. Lucy tutored John in English, while John
reciprocated by giving her French and drawing lessons. It was
this ability to teach others his interests that, for a time, became
Audubon's primary means of employment.
A few years later, John and Lucy set out for the French col­ony
of Louisville, Kentucky. They were to live on the frontier
for twenty years . Audubon tried his hand at running a general
store, equipped with shotguns, axes, and other provisions for the
back-country pio.neers. This enterprise proved only mildly suc­cessful,
and Audubon had to resort to selling his paintings to
make ends meet. Audubon often painted portraits to raise money
to support himself, his wife, and their two sons born in Kentucky.
Audubon traveled a great deal, buying supplies and selling his
goods. During his journeys, he met other naturalists, including
Daniel Boone, whom he hunted with on several occasions.
Audubon traveled with Osage and Shawnee Indians, I iving off
the land as they did. Throughout all of his travels, he kept a
daily journal, faithfully noting the habits of every new bird he
came across. He recorded natural events as wel I as human per­sonal
drama, always making note of incidents as they occurred.
Around 1820, Audubon set his mind to completing a compila­tion
of drawings entitled Birds of America. Everything else
he had attempted to make a living of had failed . After being im­prisoned
for debt, he resorted to teaching dancing, fencing, and
drawing. He continued to paint portraits to earn pocket money.
Nothing seemed to slow him in his ambition to draw never-before­seen
wildlife. He spent six years in Louisiana collecting draw­ings
for his book. Finally, at age 41, he went to England with 400
15
drawings ready to . be engraved. Birds of America became
Audubon's tour de force.
Audubon traveled from the Florida keys to New Brunswick,
Canada, and from the New Jersey shore to the Yellowstone River.
He dined with President Andrew Jackson in the White House,
and he ate with Indians in uncharted wilderness. John Jam es
Audubon was a pioneer because he lived out a rustic life on the
frontier, but also because he was one of the first in America to
observe, take note of, and draw North American birds in their
native surroundings.
THE WALL
by Theresa Lane
Lost from his platoon, Mike came upon a wall in the middle
of the woods. Mike could hear his friends calling from the other
side, "Mike ... Mike ... Mike!" Mike called out, "I'm coming"
and put down his gun and helmet, then started up the wal I.
The wall was seven feet high with barbed wire at the top. Mike
climbed over the wire and cut his hand on it, then jumped to
the other side, into mud that came up to his waist.
It was dark and very quiet except for the voices of his friends
calling him. He had waded his way through a mile of mud and
then he slipped and found himself in mud to his neck. It was
only another ten feet before he came to another wall. He
stopped and thought that he had been walking in a circle, but
that was impossible because the mud was deeper here.
Then he heard the voices again cal ling out to him from the
other side of the wall. So he climbed over it, but as he got to
the top, he tripped over the barbed wire and fel I. The next thing
he knew, his friend Bob was shaking him and saying, "It's time
to go."
16
Mike awoke and asked where they had been . They said they
had been here al I the time and that he was sleeping. "But we
were separated and you were calling me" Mike sa_id. They replied
that he must have had a bad dream. They started to walk away,
and he turned around to pick up his helmet and gun when he
noticed the cuts on his hands and the thick black mud on his
uniform .
THE FREEDOM OF NATURE
The sea gull soars high above the crescent waves,
Airborne, knowing only the freedom
Which exists within himself.
Acceleration increases his confidence.
Gliding, wind upon him,
He seizes the moment
Following the soothing rays of the sun .
Clouds nestle themselves in the heavens,
Darkening, inviting him into the moonlight.
Carrie Van Eerde
ADVENTURE
by David B. Smith
What is adventure? To some, adventure means a physical and
often spiritual challenge where one can develop a high level of
self-confidence in an outdoor setting. To others, however, adven­ture
means leaving the comforts and security of home, setting
out on a dangerous "mission", facing incredible odds, battling
the elements, and fighting off lions, tigers, and man-eating deer.
Is the possibility of working towards an abstract and nebulous
goal, such as developing a sound .self concept, worth the risk
of personal injury, or the loss of life or limb? As the number of
17
people participating in adventurous activities increases, more
and more novices, and all the more privately owned companies,
are asking themselves this question.
The kind of risky adventure activities that are in question are
numerous and in great variety. Common examples include moun­taineering,
hand gliding, downhill skiing, and white-water rafting,
canoeing, or kayaking. These- activities take place in the outdoors,
and usually the participant will compete with some element of
natural phenomena. This in layman's terms might mean trying
to overcome rapids on a river, climbing up a steep rock cliff,
or perhaps plummeting down a mountainside on skis. While the
danger is always present in these leisure time pursuits, adverse
weather conditions can compound the risk. These thrilling
challenge~ always have an uncertain finish. Will the kayak be
dashed upon the rocks? This uncertainty of the outcome is what
drives individuals to participate in these exciting sports. The stress
and anxiety attract some who might otherwise face an unevent­ful
life.
A common denominator of potential danger is always present
-- yet millions of Americans engage in this "rugged recreation"
each year. What is to be gained from such activities, aside from
sore muscles, or becoming wet and cold?
I contend that the benefits great1y outweigh the risks in such
activities. After the challenge has been met, one is aware of one's
self. He or she can be proud of the determination to meet such
a challenge, and will gain physical and emotion satisfaction
knowing that "they can do it." Adventure situations can be an
emotional outlet for those with pent up frustrations. They can
also be a social gathering, however informal, where people with
the same interests can come together and enjoy comaraderie.
In my personal experiences, I've developed strong personal bonds
with others whom I've shared intense peak experiences. And cer­tainly
one can feel better al?out himself when physically fit from
recreation in the outdoors.
18
The opportunities abound for recreation these days. There are
more instructors, creating competition amongst themselves to
be the best. Common interest groups and club are springing up
across the nation, where more and more people are initiated in­to
the world of outdoor adventure. Updated techical equipment
with added safety features is continuously being developed and
marketed, with consumers (or, shal I we say, connoisseurs) of high
adventure paraphernalia purchasing these items.
What happens when you've got the latest gear, taken every
precaution possible, yet you are unable to reach your goal as
planned due to bad weather? A person can wonder with great
respect at the power of nature, and at the same time be a part
of it. "The knowledge of one's mortality and limitations can lead
to a sense of solidarity with the world, of oneness with al I
nature." 1
Take the risk -- go for it -- it can be yours.
1 John C. Miles, "The Value of High Adventure Activities, Leisure
Today, April, 1978, p. 2.
19
GOOD BY
Day by day we I ive and learn.
With each day we see the good and the bad;
We see the love, we see the pain.
We see the people come and go;
We learn to face all that comes our way.
We know the sorrow of the day when we shall
stand and face the pain on our own,
For when this day may come, we hope
that . we can be strong to face
it all.
So good-by, my friend, for the time we
knew wi 11 never be forgotten.
BURNT OFFERING
J.R.M.
Theresa Lane
The ember of the old man's cigarette glowed with a momen­tary
fiery brilliance as he took a weak drag. The sterile room in
which he sat was illuminated only by the sun's persistent effort
to pass through the closed shade, which glowed with a dull light.
Brighter shafts, which seemed to be trying to cleanse the room
of its black, death-I ike gloom, protruded from around the sides
of the shade where it didn't meet flush with the wal I. As he ex­haled,
the smoke was invisible until it hit a shaft of pure sunlight.
The smoke would then explode and fill the space of light with
its swirling soft blue brilliance. His old disturbed mind was
fascinated by the smoke. It took him away from where he was
until his very being became vaporous. He become enthralled and
overcome by the blue haze. His absorption in the smoke was
finally broken by a racking cancerous cough from deep in his
black lungs, a pointless final attempt to expel the impurities that
had for so long built up in his aged body. The cigarette fell from
his limp fingers and landed noiselessly on the tile floor. The sun's
fading light dimmed in his lifeless eyes and once again he became
vaporous.
20
PARTING
Thomas, my spirit brother,
When I look at you I see myself.
You are a free entity
Searching only for truth
By listening to Mother Earth
And others who respect her
As intensely as you do. Thomas, my spirit brother,
Now you must flow on
It is time for doing-doing.
To follow your path in life
And live all of the intensities
Of the universe.
The notdoing-notdoing has been fruitful.
You have brought the spark of I if e
.Back to my spirit.
You have given me inner peace
And I am grateful, spirit brother.
Take care in your travels
Your spirit is strong
and touch many along the way,
And be wary of the onm ipresent
And frustrating rut
Of doing-notdoing
Which attempts to engulf us all.
And your senses are keen -­These
aid you in being a warrior
Rarely found
In today's unappreciative world.
Thomas, spirit brother,
Al I good thoughts
And all good medicine.
I will greet you at the rendezvous.
21
Your spirit brother,
Matthew
Matthew S. Lawler
MY LOVE
My love, she sadly stares out at the sea.
The breezes softly whisper through her hair.
Does she know how much her love means to me?
Doesn't she know how much I really care?
I carefully approach her from behind,
Not sure if I should break her tearful trance.
She is alone with herself in her mind.
It seems a wrong time to talk of romance. ,
She sees me and comes to my open arms.
I kiss her gently and vanquish her fears.
She knows that I will never wish her harm,
And that I hate to have her heart shed tears.
Her mind, now as peaceful as a white dove,
Knows that she is the only one I love.
22
J.R.M.
MIDAS
If time stopped, would it still be cold?
Would wind still scowl at trees standing bold
on barren rumps of rearing earth
standing the test of longevity's worth?
If sequential progress could rearrange
at a whim its stolid pace,
would a_ge seem but a word
in a nouvelle titled "interlace"?
Time's petty pace indeed
slowly slides by force eternal,
while on consistencies reed plays
a lullaby, all too familiar.
It is the most abundant things we ignore.
The air, the land, the ocean shore.
_ There is no need to .reverse
the multitudes of gulls crying on the pier.
Time, and species do abound,
and the King Midas world does go on,
and then, quietly, without a sound,
the world, empty, rotates around.
23
Anony-muse
DEATH: THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN
lie down to go to sleep.
My mind talks to me.
It arouses the curiosity of Death.
What will happen to me?
Where will I go?
I rol I over on my side,
Pu 11 my knees to my chest,
Wrap my arms around my knees,
Clench my hands as if I
Were holding myself together.
My stomach hurts.
Butterflies crawl around inside.
I begin to cry.
I am scared.
I tell my mind to shut up.
My mind tells me I have to die.
I will not listen.
I pu 11 the covers over my head;
I cry until I fade off into
A deep sleep.
ON THE OTHER HILL
Sitting,
silent and cold.
Light slowly replaces darkness.
Mice rustle in dead dry leaves.
A single note,
from a small bird.
Wind livened pine needles.
Anxiety helps relieve the pain.
Patience wearing thin.
Tint of orange on the horizon.
A shotgun blast,
not from your gun,
echoes.
24
Kathy Record
Walter G ryzb
ESSAY ON POETRY
need a change, a chance to get away,
to be alone, near no one,
a chance to sort my feel in gs,
to sort my confusions, to calm my fears.
I need to talk to myself, not to others,
to think about my own problems,
not about the world's troubles .
I need green grass, trees and quiet waters.
need to regain my self
to take for awhile, no more giving.
I need to control my I ife, my needs,
instead of always being controlled.
I want to be alone,
I need to think about these feelings;
· I'm going somewhere peaceful -­But
I'll take you; you are my peace.
25
Jane Finnemore
The members of the editorial board take this opportunity to
express their appreciation and admiration of the gentle but ef­fective
leadership of their editor-in-chief, Carolyn Jo Bowker.